From the near-helpless curling position the Cyndaquil laid in, he only bunched up tighter when the mind-echoing, overwatching voice of the Alakazam pierced his senses. He couldn't see it, but he could eventually, definitely feel the Psychic individual's presence gazing at him, and at that point he was sure he couldn't compress himself any tighter. But what the Alakazam actually said with those power resulted in a very different emotional reaction. The description of the Hanging Grimstones, artifacts of powerful forces from beyond mortal sight, and what, if anything, they could possibly do. The idea that they would be able to perhaps summon a champion or champions seemed to linger awhile on the psychic's presumptions, his questions only expanded and furthered by the happenstance of events here. And, in the Cyndaquil's idle mind, it prompted his own questions.
Was I summoned here? Is that why my form, my memories, are all so different? Very possible, and most likely.
Did this 'Great Seer' summon me intentionally? Or not? The Alakazam eventually answered that question by addressing the others in the clearing, and expressing his apologies. Seems like the Psychic had no idea what would happen if he used the Grimstones, which seemed rather ironic. Especially so considering what he summoned; a cowardly kid [was he a kid? Might as well be], and some other Pokemon that were probably far more competent that him.
Why am I here at all? What makes me a champion here? What am I supposed to do? Was something wrong here, that prompted this summoning in the first place? How do I go about fixing that if that is all true? Those questions stuck without answers, and left the Cyndaquil hopeless again.
Why me? What makes you think I'm at all worth of being a champion?
Peeking out from the cozy hiding spot of his curl, he looked up as if expecting to find some answer. He instead discovered a huge, jagged shard of rock floating precariously in the air above him. The Cyndaquil, ordinarily, might have been frightened, but something rang in his head that this was at least one of the Flying Grimstones the Alakazam mentioned. It held some sort of magical transmittance that radiated throughout the area, and the look of this monolith, combined with the chill commentary of the so-called Great Seer, bestowed a sense of wonder and amazement upon the tiny creature. He simply couldn't help but be overwhelmed by incredible curiosity about these relics. So, these are what brought him here, gave his this new body...
Now that he actually bothered to look, the sight of a cream-colored underbelly contrasting with the dark blue that coated most of his back, head and stubby limbs appeared. He was a Pokemon. He probably should've realized that now, and probably should be scared and surprised. But most of that was already wasted upon his first appearance here anyways; really, he had no excuse to be surprised or frightened now that he knew that (a.) everyone else was a Pokemon, (b.) said others sounded like there were in the same boat as he was, and (c.) the Alakazam had already explained and apologized for it. Still, he was here against his will and judgement, and was expected to get along with everyone else here. In a world of Pokemon, known to be potentially very dangerous and powerful? Not very likely, even with these other people.
But what else could he do? It's not like he could just opt out and leave; the Alakazam might stop him even if he could. Besides, some of these other, uh, 'people', had to be understanding and friendly... right? Friends... might be okay, he supposed. He didn't really know for sure what real friendship was supposed to feel like, anyway. Maybe now was the time to figure it out, because he certainly didn't want to become lunch, no, a light snack for something else.
So... friendship. Started with- introductions, perhaps? The Alakazam did compel everyone to introduce themselves and get along, so that sounded like a good start. How to introduce yourself? It was... uh, a name? Couldn't be just that, it had to be more than a name... well, let's just start with a name. ...What is my name? Name, name, name... he had to remember something from his history... Enthen? That... was a name? Was it his name? It was something he remembered, so it had to have some significance...
Of all the nerve that got the Cyndaquil back on his tiny stubbles for limbs and trotted him cautiously to the center of the clearing's Flying Grimstones, he had no courage left to actually say anything. He just stood there, his body quaking and eyelids quivering, far more nervous than a shy boy in a new school. He didn't know what he would sound like, what others would think, or furthermore, if he was even supposed to be here.